Bonds of Courage

by Lynda Aicher

  She dropped the flogger and wrapped her arms around him. Held him. Breathed him in and reveled in the hard strength and gentle power contained for her. The contact settled her heart, slowed her breaths and centered her mind.

  Holden tossed his head back, his voice raw with exposed need. “Yes, Mistress.”

  The smooth temptation of his skin under her hand had her tossing the other glove aside. The need to discover every part of him pushed her forward—brought her closer. The distance that always surrounded her was banished. The safety abandoned for this moment right here.

  She nipped his shoulder blade, wishing she could reach his neck and sink her teeth into the tender juncture of his shoulder. His salty flavor danced on her tongue and she sought out the hard buds of his nipples with her hands. His sounds grew almost constant. The sighs and groans that blended into moans and soft curses was a language she understood.

  One she spoke fluently in this room.

  The tones circled around her to bind her to him even more. Her skin was slick against his. The powerful beat of his heart ignited her pulse and deepened her breaths.

  Timed with a nip, she pinched his nipples hard, pulling them taut. His head snapped forward, back arching into her mouth in his struggle to absorb the pain. She didn’t relent though.

  “Hold still. You can take more,” she affirmed before she grabbed a piece of skin between her teeth. She continued to squeeze the buds in her finger and work her teeth on his skin until his shoulders dropped, the chains pulled tight. A long exhale became two, three as he finally sank into the pain.

  So beautiful. His surrender shivered through her in shots of adrenaline that left her gasping. She released her hold to skate her hands down his abdomen. He was still hissing air through his teeth when she reached the bristly hair that descended from his navel and surrounded his shaft.

  She raked her nails through it, teasing over his balls before she grabbed the rigid length of his cock.

  “Oh damn, Mistress.” The pure emotion in his voice fed her. He was completely open to her, ready and exposed. He’d truly given himself to her, despite the weakness she’d shown him earlier. It humbled her and upped her determination to give him the release he sought.

  “Don’t come,” she reminded him before her other hand claimed his full sac. The velvety hard skin of his erection smoothed under her palm until she reached the rounded tip. A swipe of a single finger over the head found the slick fluid that eased her path back down.

  There was a remoteness in being unable to see her hands, yet there was an intimacy in discovering everything by touch alone. She clung to the duality and indulged her desires. The Scene had deviated way off her plan, her expectations exchanged for this rare bit of freedom where nothing existed but the here and now.

  She buried her nose into the space between his shoulder blades, closed her eyes and let her hands roam. Every nuance and breath that was Holden was absorbed into her senses to become a part of her.

  The veins bulged down the sides of his cock, rippling under her hand with every pass. The rim was firm before it softened on the crown. The hair around his groin tickled her skin when she ran her fingers through it. It wasn’t excessive or primped either, but natural just like the rest of him.

  “You’re killing me, Mistress.” The rasp of his voice fit the restraint that kept his muscles tight.

  She chuckled against his back and slowly enfolded the globes of his balls in her hand. “I’m still warming up.”

  She continued to squeeze her prize until his knees bent and he swore a string of curses. She stroked the head of his cock, careful to moderate the pain with pleasure. His pulse beat in the veins under her palm, and she counted the small thumps reaching twenty before she released her hold and stepped away.

  “Holy...” He panted, sagging into the pole. She caught her breath and silently agreed. She swallowed to wet her dry throat and held still until her pulse slowed a little.

  The chains rattled as he repositioned his hold. Perspiration glistened down his back under the overhead lights that now seemed too harsh.

  She adjusted the dimmer switch, finding a softer glow that allowed her to work but made their world seem smaller. His only focus was her and hers him. Nothing else mattered.

  The click of her heels echoed through the room as she moved around the pole. His eyes were closed, breaths even, skin flushed beneath the shine of perspiration.

  “You’re doing great,” she told him.

  Sweat trailed down the side of his face and his bangs clung to his damp forehead. She reached out to brush them away before she thought to stop herself. He turned his head, following her touch until the contact ended.

  She grabbed the stool that was right behind her and stepped up. He was too big to zone out standing up. She’d never support him if his legs gave out. The cuffs came off easily, and she checked each wrist before she lowered his arms so he could better support himself against the pole.

  “Easy,” she soothed when he swayed, his eyelids heavy. “This way.”

  She guided him to the queen bed in the corner, swiping up the paddle as they passed the pommel horse. Her original plan to use that piece of equipment was ditched. This was right. Better.

  It was what she really wanted and had thought to deny herself.

  “Bend over, brace your hands on the bed and spread your legs.” She kept her voice clipped, yet she never stopped touching him. A hand on his shoulder, a caress down his back, a touch to his thigh—constant contact that kept them connected.

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  He complied so willingly, sure of himself and her. It was proof that this was real and not a game to him. He needed this—her—just like he’d claimed. Her heart fluttered and her breath caught before the rhythm returned.

  She laid the paddle on the bed and waited for him to open his eyes. “Ten strikes with the paddle.”

  He bowed his head. “If it pleases you, Mistress.”

  It did. Too much. Both his acceptance and his submission.

  She smoothed her hands over the curve of his ass. The tint from the flogger had already faded. It’d be nice and rosy soon. Red before she was done.

  She smiled at the thought, the power pumping through her in another tide of adrenaline. His barriers were completely down and somehow, he’d managed to crumble all of hers too. It was exhilarating and frightening and something he would never know.

  He sighed and pushed into her hands as she squeezed and lightly smacked his butt cheeks to get the blood flowing under his skin once again. After a minute or so, she grabbed the ash paddle and rolled it in her palm a few times, savoring the weight. The anticipation. The paddle was long enough to hit both cheeks at once and about three inches wide. The solid wood packed a nice sting no matter how hard she wielded it. It was also capable of leaving lasting bruises if she desired.

  Her first hit was more of a tap that landed on his left check. The impact vibrated through her hands to race up her arms and into her chest. Nice. The second smack cracked through the air over his right cheek. His forward motion was timed with a grunt from deep in his throat.

  She paused to caress the pink marks. His skin was already warm with the blood pooling under it. She dipped her fingers lower to rub a circle over the area between his balls and anus. She kept up the pressure until his deep groan of pleasure flooded her core with heat. Her arousal dampened her crotch and scented the air, blending with his.

  Her next two hits landed in quick succession, one on each cheek with a little more power behind them. His legs shook, and he tossed his head, a strangled cry escaping. She quickly reached around to stroke his erection. The hot length was slick with his desire, another trigger that fed the fire burning in her blood.

  “Fuck, Mistress.” His voice was close to a whimper. His struggle between pain and passion was beautiful to
watch unfold. His arms quaked, a shudder running from his shoulders to his toes as he stretched on the balls of his feet.

  She released his cock, and he immediately sagged, dropping to his elbows to rest his head on his clasped hands. His deep pants moved his entire back in a graceful struggle for control.

  “Let go,” she whispered in his ear, the tip of her tongue teasing the shell. “Give everything to me.”

  His shiver was a delicious twitch of reflexes that left visible goose bumps down his neck. He was so close, and God, she wanted to bring him all the way. Give him the freedom and joy of the subspace he craved.

  She could do it. Would do it.

  And with him, maybe she’d find that final freedom too. It was something she’d always prevented, but with Holden, she seemed incapable of stopping it.

  * * *

  “Six more,” she said, her breath fluttering over the damp skin on Holden’s neck. He’d never been so aware of every part of his body. From the smallest space between his toes to the line of sweat that dripped off his shoulder to the raging hard-on dangling between his legs. And his ass, his hot, aching ass that burned with the sting of his Mistress’s paddle.

  The bite at once hard and glorious.

  The pain was so very different from the hits and aches he endured from hockey. He was no stranger to hurting, but this was more.

  This was what he sought. Pleasure, pain and surrender from everything.

  “Yes, Mistress,” he croaked. He repositioned his feet and closed his eyes, breathing deep.

  Her touch flittered across his shoulder then down his spine to cup each burning cheek. The sting that simmered over the surface pushed deeper with her squeeze. So sweet.

  It was a moment before he realized she’d let go. He exhaled, trying to relax. The hit landed across both cheeks this time, square in the middle, nailing the previous spots precisely. He howled, unable to stop the reaction as the pain shot deep. His ass was on fire, burning through layers of muscle to scorch his balls and dick. He couldn’t process the how of it, but it was fucking amazing.

  He gasped for air, his mind tumbling in the chaos of sensation. Lost in his head, the next smack cracked deep over skin that was already blistering. His cry pierced the room, and he scrambled to hold his position.

  “So gorgeous.”

  Her purring adoration stroked over his mind like her hand on his flaming skin. His blood throbbed in time with his heartbeat that pumped in his dick, through his balls and into his ass. Everything was connected down there in a completely new way. The roar in his ears drowned out everything but her voice.

  Another blow broke the haze he floundered in. The impact blended with the existing pain almost as if it was absorbed into the spreading numbness that encompassed his entire lower half.

  “So strong.”

  Throaty words that seemed to be spoken directly into his mind. For you, he wanted to cry, but nothing came out of his gaping mouth.

  The last four strikes blended together in a sea of sharp agony, countered by extraordinary bliss. His cock had never been so hard, his balls so full. He floated in the sensory overload, a fog so thick his only anchor was her.

  The press of her finger teasing his hole ripped him from his daze. The surprising flash of desire threatened to collapse his legs. He locked his knees and rode the wave that was now a combustible ocean of need.

  Yet he waited. His match was a single command from her that he needed more than his release.

  Gentle hands eased him forward. “Lie down, Holden.”

  The bed was soft beneath him, the sheet silky smooth against his burning ass when she urged him to roll over. His hands were stretched over his head, wrists cuffed once again. He moaned his approval. The solid weight on his skin was another trigger that allowed him to float in the nothingness that was his world right now.

  She gripped his cock to roll a condom down it, and his hips arched off the mattress, his eyes flying open. She was over him, her gorgeous mane flowing around her face as she studied him. A smile stretched over her mouth before her tongue snaked out to wet her red lips.

  “You’ve done great, my sub.”

  Her praise shot through him, constricting his heart before it exploded with pride that flushed him with another layer of warmth. Focus. “For you, Mistress.”

  Her inhale was sharp. Her eyes were wide and dark as her hair. Her chest heaved, breasts rounding over the edge of the corset. A vision of dominance poised over him.

  Yes. Another shudder swept through him. The chains on his cuffs clanked against the metal bed rails to break the silence that had captured them.

  She straddled him, fully clothed down to the pointy tips of her metal heels that reflected the light. His complete focus was on her. Nothing but her.

  The slow descent of her heat around him was the single most amazing thing he’d ever experienced. There was nothing but the wetness, the sucking clench, the blazing heat.

  Her skirt hid everything, so all he had was the feeling and emotions she allowed to show. Mouth parted in a silent cry, her eyes were half-closed in a sultry expression set off by the flush of her skin. Amazing.

  She rolled her hips, rising on him only to lower a moment later. It was splendid torture and sweet ecstasy all in one. The urge to buck into her, to take what he desperately ached to have, was held at bay by his overriding need to give her what she desired.

  Her speed increased at a turtle’s pace, each descent a test of endurance. The slight rub of his tender ass on the mattress was a reminder of her power over him and only added to the pleasure.

  His eyes rolled up, but he forced them immediately back to her, determined to catch every expression that crossed her face. Their sole point of contact was their groins. The intensity multiplied by the focus.

  She gripped her thighs below flashes of garter and skin, and he ached to touch her everywhere. To treasure and cherish her flesh as he did the gift she was giving him.

  His grunts soon blended with her soft cries. She opened her eyes and held his gaze from above. Heat poured through him. His balls were drawn up full and so goddamn hard he wanted to scream. But he held it in, pooled it with the pain that radiated from his ass and the pleasure that sang down his dick.

  His vision tunneled down to her riding him, controlling each plunge, every move, the angle, the pace. It was all up to her.

  The mixed scent of their arousal reached him on every inhale. Musky and hot, dark with the promise of what was to come. Soon or never or whenever she wanted. It danced with the wet slide of skin and sex.

  She reached beneath her skirt, the sharp edge of her nail nicking the oversensitive shaft of his dick. The small little clips hit like spikes peppered at random as she rubbed her clit. His whimper was pathetically weak, but it was the only sound he could get out. She bit her lip, her hips continuing to rise and fall with that lazy pace that kept his release just out of reach.

  There was no way he could stop the small roll of his hips timed with her descent. It was physically impossible to resist his body as it followed its most primal instinct.

  Pain, pleasure, frustration, desire, need, want all collided in a storm so intense it sucked the strength from his very core.

  “Come, Holden.”

  The command shot through his senses and ignited his world. Blackness encroached, his muscles petrified and every nerve ending sizzled for the most powerful second of his life before it all exploded.

  Shattered him beyond thought.

  His release sucked every damn thing from him until he was a mass of floating nothing. But her cries called to him and he found her through the haze. Her open-mouthed pleasure engraved into his mind before he jerked with an aftershock stronger than most of his releases.

  Fucking...

  The possibility of staying focused was yanked from hi
m by a force far stronger than his determination. So he let go. Gave everything to her and went with the undertow that pulled him into the bliss of pure nothingness.

  Chapter Twelve

  Vanessa heaved a jagged sigh and sucked in another gulp of air that expelled in a gush. Her pulse raced, her thighs ached and her body sang. The hum of fulfillment flushed every inch of her as she struggled to find her breath.

  Holden lay beneath her. He was a zoned-out vision of absolute submission. The cuffs over his head were black against his wrists, solid statements of his position. His head rested against his raised arm and his eyes were hidden behind his lids, lost in the subspace he’d craved.

  His damp hair was matted and limp. Small strands clung to his forehead, and she brushed them away once again, heedless of the wetness on her fingertips. The steady rise and fall of his chest was slowing and she savored the way the light defined every dip and curve on his glistening skin.

  But it was his mouth that held her captive. His lips were a deep red and slightly swollen from where he’d bitten them. Parted just a bit, they beckoned her.

  God, he was so dangerous.

  And so gorgeous. There. All hers.

  Wetting her lips, she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his. Just a touch that had her eyes closing against the rush of longing that threatened to crumble her.

  That couldn’t happen.

  A shaky sigh exited before she lifted off him and left the bed. Her legs were shaky, her steps stilted as she moved to the headboard to release his cuffs. He groaned then. A small protest or murmur of relief, she didn’t know, but it kicked at her chest either way.

  She lowered his arms to his sides then focused on the cleanup. The condom was disposed of in the trash and clean white towels took care of everything else. His lids fluttered when she lowered the duvet over his chest, but they didn’t open. A quick check of his pulse showed a steady beat that counted in the normal range.